Success?

Well, I was thinking recently about how grocery shopping is going much better than it was a few weeks ago. I can find most things, and if they weren't in the location I last saw them, chances are they're gone and may or may not ever reappear. But at least I have _some_ idea of what I'm going to find. And since I'm doing so much better on the grocery shopping front, I decided it was time to branch out to something else that would make me feel incompetent and cause me to cry.

Driving alone was just the ticket! Now, the neighborhood around the school is very safe, what with American Embassy housing next door, chock-full of big patrolling Marines. Plus there are guards every 50 feet at the gates of enormous houses on all the streets, so even the most jumpy Americanites think it's OK to drive to the shopping center alone. Since I don't yet own a car, I decided to use one of the school vehicles; they are available after hours for a fee. I hadn't checked one out myself yet, so I tried to find a friendly staff member to help me. But everyone had bolted to intramural soccer games; I was on my own. Nonetheless, I figured out which key to use to get into the staff room (only to find, once I got in, that the door on the other side was wide open), I eventually discovered the key to get into the safe which held the vehicle keys (I knew there was a reason that key wouldn't open my filing cabinet...), but I was momentarily thrown when the cheapest car was already checked out. I recovered and chose the next cheapest car, but I almost gave up again when its keys were hanging in the safe, but the car itself was nowhere in the parking lot. Hm. By now it's a good half an hour past when I expected leave. However, I can be patient (I'm a teacher after all, right?), so I pressed on. I picked up the keys to a little truck, found the vehicle pretty easily, filled out the paperwork in the glove compartment, put the key in the ignition and...

I can't even turn the key. In fact, the harder I push, the more I feel the plastic on the handle of the key start to give. Actually, there are already cracks in that plastic- apparently someone's had this problem before. I try again. I try jiggling the steering wheel to unlock the ignition. I try some more. I try jiggling the steering wheel while making sure the clutch is fully engaged. I add the brake to the mix. I take off the emergency brake. I try combining any and all of those. I even try humming a few bars of "you're a good little car." Still no luck. I'm starting to feel really stupid- apparently I can't even start a car here! I wander over to nearby offices to see if anyone can help me. No one's there. I get back in the car and weaken the plastic on the key some more. Just then, one of my students who lives on campus walks by; I ask her if her dad is home. She says no, but her mom is, so come on over. When I walk in, her mom agrees to come look at the car with me. She looks for a "kill" button, some magic switch that helps to keep the car from being stolen. No luck. She asks if I _really_ need to go to the grocery store; won't I just come over to their house for dinner instead? A smart person would have said yes. But no, I'm nothing if not stubborn. I need milk. I need coffee. I need all-purpose baking flour. And at this point, it's getting too late to walk (that's not encouraged as dark approaches, even by native Kenyans).

Fortunately, one of the school's bus drivers walks by, and he is able to start the car. However, when I try to do it on my own, I still can't. He keeps telling me, "Do it halfway," and I keep nearly breaking the key off in the ignition. Finally I understand that I need to pull the key half-out of the slot to turn it past the lock position, then re-insert it the rest of the way. Oy. But I'm making progress. I've got a car. I've even got it started. And it's only been an hour. I'm hungry, which definitely increases my desire to cry and quit. But no. I need milk. I need coffee. I need dish soap. So I carefully back out and drive toward the main gate, recalling when I was learning to drive and my mom kept telling me "think left-think left-THINKLEFT!" (it was justified- I nearly drove our VW camper van into the wall of the garage). This time the mom-voice in my head (or maybe it was my voice- we sound so much alike) was screaming "think right!" I cut the gate a little close and maybe scared the guard, but no damage was done.

I finally walked into the grocery store after an extremely shoddy parking job, only to realize I had somehow forgotten my list. Grr. But I can persevere: I need milk. I need coffee. I need chocolate? Clearly. And as it turns out, I'm not as good at grocery shopping as I thought I was. One-time success does not equal mastery; I was pretty frustrated. When I finally got in line to check out, the woman in front of me apparently not only had forgotten half of what she wanted to buy and had the bag boy run and get it for her, but she had a very complicated means of payment involving carefully counted cash, store credit, a visa card, and something about the unshorn hair of her firstborn's head? It took a while- I don't know that I've ever before heard three hits from the 80s all the way through while waiting in a grocery store line. A one person line.

But I got through, paid for my groceries, and headed out to the parking lot. I even found the car right away, which surprised me, but by now it was dark. No worries. It's only a mile or so back to school. Which would be no problem if I could FIGURE OUT HOW TO TURN ON THE STINKING LIGHTS! I pushed every button I could find, using up a lot of windshield wiper fluid and verifying that the heat works but finding no illumination. After 10 minutes, I decided that there were probably enough street lights along the way that I wouldn't hit anything and nothing would hit me if I drove really slow. So I headed to the exit of the parking lot. When I got to that gate (where I hand back the piece of plastic that I got when I pulled in, the one I faithfully hauled around in my purse while in the store, the one that supposedly safeguards against someone escaping the parking lot after stealing my impossible to start car. You know, that gate), the guard asked kindly, "You don't want to turn on your lights?" At this point, I nearly did cry. But when he expertly twisted the end of the turn signal (exactly where the lights are in the car I've owned for the past 7 years...), I thanked him, drove home in safety, made it through the Rosslyn gate without scratching paint off anything, dropped off my groceries, parked between the lines, let myself into the staff room, put the keys back in the safe, walked back to my apartment, and wrote this post.

Success.